


The Boy Who Never Falls in Love

by Darwig3



Category: Merlí (TV), brunol
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 08:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12272283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darwig3/pseuds/Darwig3
Summary: Bruno loves Rome. But, he finds, he loves Pol more.Homecoming.





	The Boy Who Never Falls in Love

Bruno loves Rome. He’s thrilled to be able to experience a new city. He loves to walk the streets, soaking in the history of the buildings and statues. He’s always sure to keep and eye out for any Mussolini dedications. It’s the least he can do for Coralina. He gets to see Nicola almost every day which is amazing. And he doesn’t even mind his mother’s boyfriend. Bruno loves Rome. But, he finds, he loves Pol more. 

It takes him a while to realize this, but probably less time than he’s able to admit to himself. But once he finally accepts it, he can no longer look at Rome the same. The streets are too narrow, and too crowded with Vespas. He’s read all about the history of his area. There are only two plaques dedicated to Mussolini that he can find. He’s honestly getting sick of seeing Nicola. And his mother’s boyfriend seems to have become the biggest asshole on the planet overnight. 

He misses Pol. He misses Tania. Hell, he misses Merlí. 

He tells his mother not to tell Merlí that he’s going home. He’s willing to risk walking in on Merlí and Gina to see the shock on his father’s face. He also can’t risk Merlí telling any of the Peripatetics that he’s coming back to Àngel Guimerà. He does have to call Elisenda to reenroll, but her mind is so invested in politics, Bruno is sure she’s forgotten he’s coming back as soon as she’s off the phone with him. 

It only takes him a week from the time he figures all of this out until he’s sitting in Àngel Guimerà. He hadn’t even stopped at home. He went straight from the airport to the school. Sneaking in during the break, he places his luggage in the teacher’s lounge. He manages to make his way to Philosophy undetected. The classroom is empty obviously, because it’s only halfway through lunch. He sends a message to Tania first. She’s his best friend and he’s missed her so much. As much as he loves Pol, Tania has been there for him when no one else has. She gets to come first today. Pol can come first for the rest of his life. Today is for Tania. 

*I feel like dancing…come to the philosophy room* he sends her. 

She comes barreling through the door just minutes later, out of breath, with a brilliant Tania smile spread over her gorgeous face. He’s missed her energy so much. It’s contagious, and all the nervousness he was feeling about returning to Barcelona has suddenly vanished. 

“You’re here?!” She nearly yells. “You’re really here?” 

“I’m really here!” His arms open wide. They close around her as soon as she’s in them. He lifts her, spinning her around and around until they’re both dizzy. Nearly toppling into a few desks scattered around them. 

“Please, please tell me you’re back for good. It’s been awful without you.” She pulls back so they can look at each other, his arms still around her waist, “Pol’s been sulking… Merlí’s been sulking.”

“Merlí?” 

“Yes! He’s been totally depressed since you left.” 

“And you?” He questions with a smirk. 

“God, Bruno,” She wipes a tears off her cheek, “do you have to ask?”

He clasps the back of her head, rests his in the crook of her neck, “I’m back for good.” He says, his fingers tangling in her mane of hair. She sighs delightedly into his ear. Her fingers grip onto him tighter, almost to enforce his words. 

“Wait,” she says suddenly pulling out of his grasp completely, “what about Nicola?”

Bruno shakes his head slightly, “Nicola is great, but-“

“But he isn’t Pol?” 

“But he isn’t Pol.”

“Have you seen him yet?” Tania asks, a cheeky smile breaking out over her face. 

Bruno feels the blush crawling up his neck, into his cheeks. Tania teases him, scratching a finger over the redness. They both giggle, Bruno uncomfortably. 

“No, no. I texted you first.” 

She slaps his arm. “Text him now!” She does a little excited jump. 

“I just don’t know what to say!”

“Oh come on, Bruno.” She rolls her eyes so hard he irises nearly disappear. “You know what you have to say.” 

She’s right. Obviously she’s right. He’s just scared. Which is dumb, because Pol already knows how he feels about him. Or, he did, before Bruno stupidly told him he no longer felt that way for him. What an idiot he was. 

“I know,” he nods, then places a kiss on her forehead. “We’ll hang out later today, ok?” 

“Bruno,” she’s rolling her eyes again, “don’t be an idiot. We’ll hang out tomorrow.” 

“Love you!” He calls to her through the open classroom window, as she starts walking through the hallway.  
“Love you too. Don’t chicken out!” 

He nods, more to himself. Tosses his phone between his hands, thinking of the best way to do this. WhatsApp seems too impersonal. The phone in general seems too impersonal, but he doesn’t want anyone else to be around for this. He decides Snapchat is a good middle ground. He grabs a piece of chalk, and on the same white board he’d written his name across months ago he writes “Pol Rubio, I love you.” In big, glaring letters. Writing the date, 20-3-2017 underneath. He snaps a picture of the board, saves it to his memories before he sends it off. Doing it quickly so he can’t overthink this. 

He takes a seat on the desk behind him. His eyes staying trained on the board. He looks and looks, and the longer he looks the more he’s sure about the accuracy of the statement he’s made. He knows, as a historian, that no matter how much someone believes in something, writing something down doesn’t mean it’s true. You need facts to back things up. And the fact is that he’s loved Pol Rubio since he was 15. Maybe even before that. He loved Pol Rubio before he even learned to love himself. And he’s not letting Pol leave this room until he knows just how much he is loved. Even if he’s unable to reciprocate it. 

Pol is not like Tania; he’s not glued to his phone. So Bruno is not expecting his snap to be opened so quickly. But it is, opened just 40 seconds after he’d sent is. Pol takes longer getting to the classroom than Tania did. After a few minutes Bruno is sure he’s not coming. The thought makes his eyes prickly. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He nearly breaks through the skin. And then he sees a glimpse of him. He sees his hair, catching the in the sunlight, at the end of the hallway. A few more steps and he can see his face more clearly. 

It’s not portraying the look of panic that he’d been imagining. No, Pol’s expression is neutral, maybe even… he might even be smirking. It’s then that Pol is able to see him too. His kind of smirk transforms into a real Pol Rubio smile. One Bruno has only seen a handful of times. One that isn’t there because someone has made Pol laugh. But one that is there because someone has made Pol truly happy. 

Pol doesn’t even make it to the door, he jumps through one of the open windows. Usually Bruno would take this as Pol showing off, but he can tell from the look in Pol’s eyes that this has to do solely with urgency and efficiency. He takes five long strides and then he’s there. Standing in front of Bruno for the first time in nearly four months. Pol’s hand cups his cheek. He runs his finger along the angle of his jaw, almost exactly where Tania had teased him earlier. But this is not teasing. This is their intimacy. Pol can’t use his words, but he can use his hands, and sometimes they can speak louder and clearer. 

“Bruno…” 

It’s so soft, Bruno almost can’t hear it due to the blood rushing in his ears and throughout the rest of his body. He’s able to tune that out though and process two things at once. For the first time, there is no sadness behind Pol’s sigh of his name. Their is also no sorrow to be found in his eyes, even though they are red and about to spill over any second. 

Pol’s hand moves to grasp the back of his head, pulling him forward, his other hand coming to to rest on Bruno’s hip, while Bruno’s hands grip tightly at Pol’s shoulders. He turns his head in order to breath in Pol’s scent. Cigarettes and clean cotton, with a touch of leather. Pol has smelled the same since they were kids. Even before he started smoking. Bruno used to have to find creative ways to catch a whiff of him. He’s amazed that he’s able to do this so freely now. Out in broad day light, in the middle of a classroom with a wall made mostly of windows. Even just considering that this is Pol Rubio, self proclaimed womanizer. The boy who never falls in love is letting another boy breath him in. The thought sends a warm tingle to Bruno’s stomach. 

He begins to place small kisses on his neck. Maybe it’s because Pol is always pulling him in like this, but this is Bruno’s favorite place. If he could spend his life hiding out in the crook of Pol’s neck, planting kisses every now and then he would. He places his lips to Pol’s pulse point, and can feel his heart beat slow down until it’s in time with Bruno’s own. 

He can feel the shorter boy shaking beneath him. Feels a few droplets of water land in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He pulls back, his hands coming up to cup Pol’s face. He swipes his thumbs under both of Pol’s eyes, wiping away the tears that have finally escaped. 

“Are you not happy to see me?” Bruno says through a wet laugh, trying to lighten the mood. 

Pol digs the palm of his hand into his right eye. “I’m trying not to be too happy.” It’s a quiet confession, one that make Bruno’s knees a little weak. 

“I’m not leaving again, Pol.” 

“What about Nicola?”

“Nicola was nothing.” 

“Nothing? You moved to a different country for him!” It’s like Bruno has flipped a switch. There is a hot anger behind his words. His cheeks flare up to a bright rouge. “You left to be with him. You left Merlí. You left your grandmother. You left Tania…” His speech picks up momentum and intensity as he goes through the list. “You…you…” he sputters, runs a shaking hand through his mused hair. “You left me. You fucking left me, Bruno.”

Pol is broken. Out of breath, chest heaving slightly. 

Bruno hates that this is turning into a fight. He wanted this to be perfect and beautiful and easy. But being with Pol has never been easy. Being with Pol has always been a stomach twisting rollercoaster. Bruno has been stuck on the ride for years, blindfolded, never knowing when the next climb or drop is coming. Though, if there’s one thing Bruno has learned from being with Nicola, it’s that love is not supposed to be easy. Easy is boring. Easy is for infatuation. Easy is for flings. 

Love is hell. Love is fun. Love is Pol.

“You left me too.” Bruno replies. His voice is soft and even. He’s not just blaming Pol. He’ll never blame Pol for not being ready. But he won’t let Pol put the sole blame on him either. “Every time you snuck out in the morning,” he continues, “every time you denied this. You were moving further and further away from me until finally, I couldn’t see you anymore. There was too much space between us, Pol, what was an hour plane ride going to change?”

Pol’s eyes soften. His mouth which had been set in a firm line relaxes, pouting slightly. Though his voice is rough when he says, “everything. It changed everything.” 

Before Bruno can take a breath to respond, Pol’s lips are on his. 

It’s a softer kiss than Bruno had expected. Reminiscent of the one they’d shared before Bruno had left for the airport. But far longer. And it quickly develops into something needier. They both grab at each other. Holding onto anything and everything. Tugging at each other’s hair, clothes, bodies. Pol hefts Bruno onto the desk behind him and stands between his legs. The brown haired boy’s legs com up to wrap around his waist. 

It’s Pol who pulls them apart. Both desperately searching for air to breathe and the words to say. Pol pipes up first, surprisingly. 

“You leaving- hell, you getting in that damn cab made me realize how much of a fucking idiot I’ve been.” He places his hand over the one that Bruno has resting on his cheek, slots his rough fingers with Bruno’s smooth one’s. He runs his thumb over his knuckles. “I think I’ve loved you for a while Bruno, I’ve just been too scared to think of what that means.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything if you’re not ready. You know I’d never force you to come out before you’re ready. Not that you’d be coming out, I mean –“ 

“I don’t want to label myself as anything yet. Maybe I’m bi, I don’t really know. I just know that I love you, Bruno. That’s all I can give you for now. I can’t promise you anything else. But I really want to try for you.”

Bruno bites his bottom lip in an effort to curb the ridiculous smile that’s completely taking over his face right now, but the smile wins anyway. He looks up at Pol through his lashes, his eyes glinting playfully. “The boy who never falls in love…”

“I don’t fall in love. I fell in love. With you. I’m pretty sure this is a one-time thing for me, Bruno.”

All Bruno can manage is a nod in agreement before stretching up in order to meet Pol’s lips once more. The bell is going to ring shortly, and Bruno should probably warn Pol, but all other input that’s not directly related to Pol Rubio’s body on his leaves his brain as soon as it enters. Even when the bell does ring, Pol doesn’t stop. Bruno is the one to pull back, he laughs at the somewhat confused, somewhat hurt expression written on Pol’s face. That is until his attention is drawn to where a lone figure stands in the doorway. Bruno hops down from the desk and they both stumble further into the room. 

“I see you’ve both finally come to your senses.” Merlí says, sauntering into the room and dropping his things on the desk as if his own son was not just having a heated make out session on top of it. “I’m glad you’re home, son.” 

Bruno looks between these two men; two people he could never had relied on just two years ago. Now two of the most important people in his life. Men who have helped him to accept himself. Men who have taught him how to be a man. Men who have showed him what it is to love and be loved. “Me too,” he says.


End file.
